


Pocket Games

by turnyourankle



Category: Twilight RPF
Genre: F/F, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-05-14
Updated: 2009-05-14
Packaged: 2017-10-19 00:47:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,803
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/195051
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/turnyourankle/pseuds/turnyourankle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They'd almost done it, once, in one of the set trailers. Both freshly baked and warm--he remembers that, the warm feeling in his belly and his face, and just wanting to press his skin against hers .</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pocket Games

Kristen cuts a line on the coffee table, using a rolled up pound bill to snort it. His hotel room's coffee table. _His_ hotel room. Her hair bunched up in her fist, stray hairs loosely fanning out from between her fingers.

"I've always wanted to do that," she says, a small tug of her lips visible. She pinches her nose, reflexively, and runs her fingers through her hair. She has a big smile on her face, and bounces her feet against the table.

"Right. Where did you even get that?"

She shrugs, says, "I have sources, you know."

"In England?"

"You're here."

"And that was most certainly not mine."

She shrugs again, as if it's a secret. She'll spill by the time they're stuck in the airport again, only to brag about her serendipitous networking. He's looking forward to that story.

"Take me out. Somewhere, whaddya call it. Dingy and seedy and dark and mysterious." She pokes at a hole in her jeans, on the inside of her thigh. She pulls at the stray threads, loosening a long black one, and she drops it on the floor. Probably nothing to room service, but he can't help but wince.

He says, "I'd rather just stay in. Do bugger all."

"That never does get old. Come _on_." She fastens her hands at his open shirt, pulling at his body so he's at the same level as her where she sits, body practically bent to fit the spine of the couch. "You can have some, at no cost," she whispers with a wicked grin. She slaps his ass, surprisingly enough, and he laughs nervously. She must've had something more before coming over.

"You know all the neat places, right, show a girl a good time." She bounces back down on the couch, the soles of her shoes rubbing against the fabric.

"I don't think I've seen you this wired, ever."

"I've been indoors all day, and you too freak, really, and tomorrow's just more of the same, just more 'tard junkets. I need something to keep me going, come on."

"And jeopardize the integrity of the franchise? My, Kristen, I'm appalled."

"Shut up, come on. It'll be worth your time."

He rolls his eyes, but caves when she bites her lip, briefly. A sure sign that she really wants it.

He caves, and calls Gareth, whose only response is, "Have you got the girl with you?" His voice is hoarse and slow, when Robert says yes he responds by laughing high and screechy, the grating sound echoing through the receiver. "I'll see what I can do."

"You have to fix yourself up," Kirsten interrupts with a broad smile on her face. She always does get what she wants. "Come 'ere."

His cell is still attached to his ear as her fingertips practically massage his scalp, lifting the hair up from the roots. He has to mutter, agreeing to Gareth's arrangements with Kristen making faces inches away from his.

On their way out Kristen unrolls the bill and leaves it on the room service tray by the door.

-

  
Kristen used to kick Robert's leg during table read, a habit she clearly hasn't grown out of. Her chucks keep bouncing against his shins and calves, aim different with each hit. He shifts on the leather seat, reaching down his palm grasps her foot, and he pushes it back in her direction.

"Thought I'd told you to learn morse code if you were gonna keep that up."

"Like you could decipher it anyway." She moves up her foot up onto the seat, arm hugging her knee. "You'd think three strong men could grab some beers faster than this." She huffs impatiently, watching 'his crew' as she'd dubbed them over at the bar.

The way her fingers cup her knee reminds him of what she looked at when they first met, she'd always hold on to herself; hand around a wrist or arm, or fingers fidgeting. Her pale skin and long stares and silences, as if trying to figure everyone out. It's unsettling. He turns to look at the bar as well, just to avoid the flashback.

Rob can identify Gareth in the middle of the crowd; his is the only familiar face of the group. They hadn't bothered with introductions, busy ushering Kristen into the bar without bringing attention to themselves, or rather, to her and her lack of legitimate ID.

The group ambles towards them, rowdy voices carrying in their direction. "I believe our drinks have arrived."

The guys shuffle all the bottles on the table, the bottles sliding across the worn surface. Kristen grabs one of the beers closest to her and starts gulping it down, the bottle half full when she puts it back down on the table. She uses the back of her hand to wipe her mouth.

"Take it easy, sweetheart," one of the guys say, eyebrow piercing shining in the dark. He flashes her a grin; it's probably supposed to be seductive.

"If I didn't know better I'd think someone's drinking to forget," the ginger says, his game face is on as well. Robert wonders what exactly he said that made it sound like the goal of the evening was bukkake. He grabs one of the beers to keep from mouthing off.

Kristen responds by burping, back of her hand still pressed against her mouth.

Rob laughs, sound muffled by his bottle, but Kristen notices and rolls her eyes at him. She mutters a, "S'cuse me," and gets up, pressing her way past the guys. "Just gonna give my legs a lil' stretching you know, I'll be right back."

She reaches over the table to grab her beer, and gives her version of a polite smile before disappearing into the crowd.

"She's a right tease, ain't she?" It's the pierced guy, watching her walk away. The ginger nods, adds, "Coulda used some tighter pants though."

"I think she fancies me." Gareth says, and the others laugh. "What! If you hadn't noticed, she made sure to squeeze right past me. Not that I mind." Rob tunes them out, looking into the crowd only to find Kristen talking to a girl near the bar.

He takes another drink and it's enough for him to lose sight of her.

She doesn't need a babysitter, and it's not his responsibility that she's taken care of, but by the start of his third beer Rob's slightly uneasy. The conversation goes on without him, and he shifts in the booth, pressure against his bladder making itself known. Of course this is when they start paying attention.

"'scuse me," he says, making a show of tugging at his waistband. The guys nod, and almost instantly return to their Arsenal vs Manchester United row.

He finds--or rather stumbles upon--Kristen on the way to the men's room, and she isn't alone. She's in the corridor leading to the loo, back against the wall and eyes closed, with another brunette licking her way into Kristen's mouth. It's a full on snog, with grinding and soft moans.

The corridor's narrow and dirty, and he'd be stood there and just stare at them if he didn't really, actually have to piss. He's grateful for the dark and ducks his head as he bumps past them.

Neither Kristen or the girl take note, cadence of movement and moaning remaining the same. He takes a last glance before the door slides shut, and notices one of Kristen's hands moving under the girl's skirt, and her eyes flash open.

He isn't sure if it's just the light reflecting or if it's recognition. He can't tell before the door closes, and at that point he can't decide whether to piss or wank.

Kristen's back at the table when he comes out, another beer attached to her mouth, hiding a smirk. He slides back into the booth, watching the guys all watching the brunette turn down Gareth.

-

  
Kristen leads the way back to his hotel room. If Rob didn't know better he'd think she'd lost her keycard. Although after what he saw earlier, he can't be certain.

They'd almost done it, once, in one of the set trailers. Both freshly baked and warm--he remembers that, the warm feeling in his belly and his face, and just wanting to press his skin against hers . They'd almost gotten caught, trousers almost off and makeup smeared. Rob can't stop thinking about that now, the warmth in his belly and head from the beer.

She closes the door, and quickly slams her back against it, from the sound of it she put her full weight against the wood. Rob'd think she'd have hurt herself if she hadn't smiled drunkenly. Her face looks warm too, cheeks red and flushed.

She pulls at his hand, fingers barely managing to circle his wrists. They're warm, too.

He follows her lead and steps closer, chest against hers. Her fingers press against his wrist, digging in, she says, "Pump, pump, pump."

She tips her head back, and her mouth is open, tongue sliding over her lips. If that's not an invitation, Rob doesn't know what is. He uses his thumb to trail along her lower lip, and says, "You're gorgeous."

It always works, and Kristen's face scrunches up in a brief wince, but is followed by silent laughter; her head and body shaking without the tight bubbly sound. "That's just your pulse speaking," she says, and it's the clearest she's sounded all night. She doesn't push him away, and she's still holding on tightly, the waves of laughter still echoing throughout her chest.

He leans down to kiss her, to quiet her down, or rather, calm her down. It works, her mouth pushing up to his as she gets up on her tiptoes for better access.

"Mmm, charmer."

She ducks away from the door, still holding on to his wrist, she leads towards the bedroom.

She doesn't take her shirt off until she's straddling him on the bed, his layers already peeled off. Her nipples are already hard, and he uses his thumb to them against the thin fabric of her bra. She hisses, but still moves his hand down to his zipper.

"You don't have to, let's just, get to it," she rocks her hips, and okay, he's not opposed to fast forwarding.

She kisses him again, tongue eagerly sliding across his mouth and teeth biting down on his lips before letting go, scrambling to her feet only to kick off her trousers. His zipper's already opened, and he does his best to slide off his jeans and underpants without getting off the bed. He scrambles for a condom, prepared.

There are fresh scratches along Kristen's ribs, he notices now, and Rob can practically picture the brunette's nails digging in the dark, and it's just that much more of a turn on.

She catches his glance, as if she can tell what she's thinking, and licks her lips. She must've known. She straddles him again, lips still hot and eager against his.

"You didn't have to do that y'know," Rob says in between her lips against his. She's moving against him, skin flushed. Synapses firing off in his skin. He has no idea why this would be a bad idea; it's bloody brilliant.

"Hmmm?"

"Unless you want one of the girls to join, that...would be grand."

"Ohhh, that wasn't for you. Really, really wasn't."

She kisses him again and he takes the opportunity to slip on the condom. She reaches down, hand grasping his cock, one, two squeezes, and he can tell she's smiling from the way she presses her lips against his. She whispers, "Tricky, tricky."

Before he knows it, he's inside of her. It's quicker than he expects, but she's wet and warm and from the sound of it completely ready. She lifts her hips up a little, and settles down again. She stops kissing him, focusing her movements, a few small focused thrusts. She moves his hands to her ass, letting his palms cup the edge of her hips. "Come on, set the rhythm."

She lets him rock her, bent over his chest, mouth wet against his clavicles. Her teeth graze his skin occasionally, when a particularly good spot is hit. She comes first, and it's quicker than Rob's used.

She tightens around him, and lifts his hands to her breasts, setting a faster rhythm for him. Her thighs flex, and when he comes she digs her nails into his sides. He's utterly unprepared, and blinks uncontrollably at the sensation. He thinks he lets out some strangled sound, probably from her face. She seems pleased.

She manages to look smug even when tying the condom and dropping it in the trash.

-

Kristen's arms are stretch over her head, fingers tapping against the headboard. Her eyes are unopened, but she's obviously awake from the way her face is twisted at the sound of the news. Rob turns up the volume some more, taking another bite of his toast and chews loudly.

He turns back towards the tv, watching the images flash, not particularly paying attention to what's being said or shown. It's just nice hearing the proper affect again. Kristen shifts in the bed behind him, and he half expects her to pop up over his shoulders and pull him back down, or steal his toast from between his teeth. No, instead she slides her freezing toes along his back, dipping them into his underpants.

It shocks him, and he almost falls off the bed trying to get away from her feet. "Fucking hell, Kris!"

She rolls around, moving closer to the edge of the bed and laughs. She doesn't look particularly well rested, but her face brightens up at the sight of the room service tray.

"Oh thank god, I'm starving," Kristen says, folding up a pancake and dipping it into a small saucer of syrup. She keeps the linen tight around her chest while sitting up.

"Who said that was for you." Rob bumps his elbow against arm.

"Even you," she says, stopping to take a few more bites, and continues, "don't eat this much."

He shrugs, scratching at his eyebrows. Getting up he scrambles for a lighter in his discarded jeans, lighting up a spliff, nicked from Gareth's supply last night, and watches her eyeing it. He intentionally ignores her.

"You're not going to ask me to prom, are you?"

She snorts, and pinches his arm. It stings pretty bad. "Don't be a dick."

"Isn't that considered romance?"

"Who said _anything_ about romance? Besides, I'm not the one who ordered up breakfast." She lunges a syrup covered finger at him, barely managing a trail along his hip.

"That's not romance; that's nutrition."

Kristen steals the last orange slice left on his plate, having finished the pancakes, and chomps down on the fruit flesh. She licks her fingers clean, and Rob puffs out a cloud of smoke, biting around the spliff as he pulls on his jeans with effort.

"Wake-and-Bake, huh? I can't believe you're going to stink up the place."

"Look who's talking," he has to mouth it around the spliff, hands occupied with his jeans. They feel snugger than yesterday, stiff from a spilled beer, and smelling faintly of the fags smoked the night before. A little walking outdoors would air that right out.

"Mmm. I think the bigger concern will be why only one of the rooms was used."

"As if they'll check? Not that organized." He snorts, and quieter, he says "In fact they'd probably be thrilled to find out where they can cut expenses."

She shrugs where she lies, the sheets bunching up around her frame. Lying back like that, it almost looks like she's been making an angel, wrinkles fanning out around her.

"I can run over there and roll around in the bed if you want, puff out some of this lovely aroma." He waves his arm through the smoke.

He can tell the corner of her mouth turns up at that, but she doesn't say anything for a while, kicking her feet free from under the sheets and wriggling her toes. He goes back to looking after his shirt; it's not where he remembers dropping it last night.

"It's not even prom season, you know."

"Who the hell knows. If there's one thing I've learned it's that Americans are mad. Absolutely stark raving mad."

This time she laughs, and pulls out his shirt; wedged between the pillows. He certainly wouldn't have looked there. "Think fast!" She throws it at him, and he catches it. "And don't you love it?"

Putting it on, his fingers graze across scratches across his ribs that match hers, and he takes another inhale from his spliff.

He shakes his head, but it feels more like a nod.

  



End file.
